


four times the doctor slaps yaz('s ass)

by zanthetran



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, First Time, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Smut, Spanking, Top!Yaz rights, Vaginal Fingering, just a bit of edging, porn with just the barest hint of plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:08:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28891143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zanthetran/pseuds/zanthetran
Summary: four times the doctor slaps yaz (on accident) and the one time yaz repays the favor.—The slap comes as a shock — to Yaz and apparently the Doctor as well because she freezes, one step past Yaz.“Did you just —““I’m so sorry,” the Doctor says at the same time. “Terrible habit, from when I were a man, y’know.”
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Comments: 7
Kudos: 98





	four times the doctor slaps yaz('s ass)

**Author's Note:**

> hi. thanks to mchat for putting this idea in my head. sorry it took me literally 6 months to write guys.

“Right. Let’s get a shift on!”

The slap comes as a shock — to Yaz and apparently the Doctor as well because she freezes, one step past Yaz.

“Did you just —“

“I’m so sorry,” the Doctor says at the same time. When she turns to Yaz her cheeks are flushed and she avoids eye contact. 

“You had a habit of slapping women when you were a man?” Yaz asks. God, she’d probably break her (his) fingers had she (he) slapped her as a man.

“Not a lot! Not often! Just — a habit, y’know, like —“

“Can you have been a misogynist if you’re a woman now?” Yaz quips, half joking.

“Yaz! I weren’t — that’s not — it weren’t like that,” she stammers. “I love women!”

Yaz raises an eyebrow. “Right.”

“It _wasn’t.”_

“Okay.”

“…”

“Ready to go?” Yaz finally asks, taking pity on the Doctor who looks like she might actually explode. She nods eagerly and leads the way out of the doors of the tardis without another word.

* * *

They don’t talk about it. It’s not a big deal, really. Yaz believes her that it’s just habit and she doesn’t think it’ll ever happen again — one time thing, that’s what she tells herself in the following weeks.

“Oh _sh —_ “

“ _Language_ , Yaz. There is a child listening.”

Yaz glares at her. “There’s also a _huge_ _alien_ lurking round, Doctor. I think this one can slide,” she hisses, pulling the little girl closer to her side. The Doctor’s elbow digs into her ribs from where they crouch behind a tall stone structure, hidden from sight of the… _creature_ moving around.

“Always a good time to start good habits,” the Doctor whispers back.

“Now? _Really_? Now is a good time to start good —“ Yaz’s whispering is cut off by a loud screech from the creature and all three of them move just a little bit closer together, trying to make themselves as hidden as possible.

“If we can get to the tardis I can drop her off wherever — whenever. We just need to get there,” the Doctor mutters.

The bright blue of the tardis stands stark against the grey backdrop of the sky behind it. It just sits there waiting for them, warm amber light spilling from windows, and Yaz wants nothing more than to be back in there, safe from whatever this thing is.

“Run for it?” Yaz asks.

The Doctor chews on her lip, looking from the tardis to the creature and back. “Only option, I think. Doesn’t seem to be able to change direction fast, so if we’re quick I think we’ll be able to —“ Her words are cut off by another loud screech.

Yaz turns to the little girl who hasn’t spoken a single word since they’d found her alone, separated from her family that had fled. “We’re gonna go somewhere safe now, okay? Like a ship. And then we’ll get you back to your family,” she says in the most reassuring voice she can. “We just need to get past the monster. Think you can hold on to me that long? I’m a fast runner, promise.” Yaz gives a grin though she knows it doesn’t quite reach her eyes — maybe this kid won’t notice.

The little girl nods and moves to wrap her arms around Yaz’s neck. Yaz carefully and quietly stands from where they’re hiding, the stone structure still giving her cover but she feels more exposed than ever. She picks the girl up and holds her tight to her hip, arms wrapped around her waist.

The Doctor watches from the side of their cover, tongue sticking out between her lips. The creature gives another loud screech (which causes the girl to tighten her hold almost painfully, but Yaz doesn’t comment on it) and turns around, facing away from them.

Her eyes are frantic when she turns back to Yaz. “Now, go now,” she says, and the slap — again — comes as a complete surprise, but it doesn’t have either of them freezing in their tracks (they don’t have time for that). The only indication it even happened is when Yaz looks over at the Doctor running beside her and catches the bright flush on her cheeks, pointedly not looking over at Yaz. The creature screeches again, right as they pass by a large foot, and it takes a thundering step towards them, many arms reaching out to grab them. The little girl lets out a scared cry and Yaz holds her tighter against her side, her feet hitting hard packed earth sending jolts through her body as she runs.

40 feet, 35 feet, 30 feet — the tardis slowly but surely gets bigger as they run towards it and Yaz almost believes she can feel the warmth from the console room, the amber light spilling from a crack in the door. A long spindly hand grabs at the back of her shirt and she tries to run faster, heart beating erratically and hard in her chest. The little girl's face is buried in her shoulder and she feels hot wet tears hit her neck — and _god._ How is Yaz supposed to deal with that right now?

She runs faster. They finally _(finally)_ get to the doors and the Doctor pulls a chain from around her neck, shoving the key at the end of it into the tardis door, and then it’s open and Yaz is inside with the girl and the Doctor is trying to close the door on one of the hands that reaches blindly for her throat. Yaz puts the girl down near one of the columns and rushes over to help, pushing one palm flat against the door next to the Doctor’s head and leaning all her weight on it. Her other hand smacks against the wood on the other side of the Doctor’s head right as the creature screeches loud and pulls the arm back through the opening. The door closes with a bang and Yaz is jerked forward with the movement, her body so close to the Doctor’s that she can feel the heat from the sun they were just under seconds ago. The Doctor’s chest heaves as she looks up at Yaz and licks chapped lips, a pink tongue darting out quickly, eyes looking just a bit darker in the dim light of the doorway.

The girl sniffs loudly behind them and Yaz pulls back sharply, heart pounding hard in her chest as her hands fall from the door on either side of the Doctor. She turns to see the girl standing a few feet behind them, wiping furiously at her cheeks, and Yaz goes to kneel before her as the Doctor moves about in her periphery, pulling levers and pressing buttons and taking them off to anywhere but where they are right now.

“You were proper brave. Don’t think I’d have been that brave if I were you,” Yaz says quietly.

The girl sniffs again and rubs her eye with her fist.

“We’re gonna take you back to your family now, alright?”

The girl nods silently, finally looking up at Yaz for the first time since they’d found her. She studies Yaz’s face for a moment before reaching out and holding onto her hand, light blue fingers squeezing hard.

 _She’s scared,_ Yaz thinks. She looks over at the Doctor still piloting the tardis somewhere and then takes a seat next to the girl, not dropping her hand. “It’ll be okay. She sort of knows what she’s doing,” she says in an exaggerated whisper to the girl.

(Her ass still stings. It was a hard slap.)

* * *

Yaz crosses her arms over her chest and leans back against the console. The girl was dropped off with her family in their…bunker (that’s the best word she can think of, really) ten minutes ago and the Doctor hasn’t looked at her since.

“You hit me again,” Yaz finally says, tired of tiptoeing around the figurative elephant in the room.

“Yeah,” the Doctor says awkwardly, straightening up. “Sorry Yaz. Heat of the moment, y’know. Wasn’t…thinking.”

“Right.”

They’re both silent for a long moment — the Doctor avoiding eye contact and Yaz studying her profile.

“I’m going to bed,” Yaz says, pushing off the console and taking a step towards the hall to her room. A hand wraps around her wrist and she stops, turning back to find the Doctor looking down at her hand like it had moved on its own accord.

She lets go quickly and shoves it deep in her pocket. “Sorry, Yaz. Really,” she says. She chews on the inside of her cheek. “I didn’t mean to do it, it just happened. I’ll try harder. Won’t happen again, swear it.”

Yaz nods slowly, eyes softening. “It’s fine, I get it.” _She doesn’t_. “Just caught me off guard.” _That’s for bloody sure_.

* * *

Yaz knows it’s a bad idea when the Doctor walks into the console room dressed in a tux.

It’s the same one she’d worn to that party all those months back, before — “What are you wearing?”

The Doctor holds out her hands and grins, spinning on her heel slowly. The coat swishes around her calves where the pants end just above her boots. “Nice, right? Just like the one I had before!” she says excitedly. “The tardis picked something out for you too. It’s on y’bed, I think. Or she might’ve hidden it on the top of the bookshelf. Check anyways.”

The Doctor moves to the console and starts messing around with the buttons. “Thought we could go see a film tonight, a real proper one. Got a friend who made ‘em back in your time. Or well, a bit after your time.”

 _A bit after your time_ means a _lot_ after Yaz’s present day, if the holograms walking around the front of the room were anything to go by. They look so realistic Yaz almost believes they’re real people.

For the record, she doesn’t believe this is a calm trip, not for one second (and that’s why she doesn’t wear heels with the form fitting dress she’d found on top of the bookshelf). She knows the Doctor has a hidden agenda up her sleeve and waits until halfway through the film before she leans over, her lips brushing blonde hair. The Doctor stiffens slightly, still staring at the front of the room where two holograms are acting out a particularly intense argument.

“You gonna tell me why we’re here?” Yaz whispers.

The Doctor bites her bottom lip then turns to whisper back. Her breath is hot on the shell of her ear, lips almost touching, and it sends a shiver down Yaz’s spine that she works hard to keep unnoticeable. “One of those holograms is a real person being held captive, got a distress call last night.” There it is. Yaz knew there was no way the Doctor would sit still for almost two hours without there being a catch. “Think if I can get to the main connector box up there I can rewire it to send a signal back to wherever they’re keeping’ em and it’ll blow out the entire electrical grid. I hope.”

“Want me to cause a distraction?” Yaz asks.

The Doctor looks over at her and raises a brow, eyes shining. “Yasmin Khan, a wonder you are,” she says, and there’s something in her voice Yaz can’t quite decipher, then she leans back in to whisper in her ear. “No, no distraction. Think we can slip in through the back entrance.”

“Why can’t we do it now?”

“It’s in use, they’ll be suspicious. And it’s locked up when not in use. Reckon we’ve got about a minute between the film ending and the ushers puttin’ it back under lock and key.”

“Better be quick then.”

She is. As soon as the film is about to end, the Doctor grabs her hand and says something about beating traffic, just loud enough for the people around to hear, and leads her out of the auditorium. The hall is deserted save for one single usher who looks like a teenage kid sweeping the floor at the other end. The Doctor leads her the opposite way and they slip through a door labeled “employee’s only”.

The hallway they enter looks like it should be damp — dark and musty with dim orange lights lining the wall every few feet, barely giving enough light to see with. The Doctor doesn't let go of her hand the entire time they walk quickly towards the back of the auditorium. Water drops from overhead pipes onto her head and Yaz lifts her hand to wipe it away from her hair.

The main connector box is big and mechanical and the Doctor stops when they step into the room. Yaz can hear people in the auditorium filing out as the show comes to an end. As soon as the lights of the box turn off the Doctor steps up to it, her fingers reaching out and ghosting over the metal.

“Wow,” she breathes, eyes dancing over the machine.

“Want me to leave you two alone for a minute?” Yaz quips, looking behind her at the door they’d just entered through. She had said they would only have a minute and Yaz reckons she can already hear someone pushing a cart down the hallway. “Let’s hurry it up, Doctor.”

“Right, sorry,” the Doctor says, pulling her sonic from her coat pocket and pointing it at the device. She fiddles with the button on the side of her sonic for a second before reaching into the middle of the device and tugging on a wire. Sparks fly and she rips her hand away, stepping back, frown on her face.

“Is it done?” Yaz asks, even more nervous as the cart sound gets closer.

The Doctor checks it with her sonic, then shakes her head. “I dunno why it’s not working. If I reroute the current, it should —” She cuts off, pulling Yaz close by the hand and shoving it into the middle of the device.

“Oi, watch it.”

“Sorry, hold that, let me just —” The Doctor points her sonic and the machine lights up once then flashes bright enough to blind them both, then goes dark again. The Doctor checks it with her sonic and the cart sound is right outside the door and Yaz can hear someone mumbling to themself.

She doesn’t think, that’s what the reasoning is here. She doesn’t think at all, only acting on instinct when she pulls her hand out of the machine and pushes the Doctor hard against the wall furthest from the device. The Doctor lets out a soft _oof_ and opens her mouth, probably to ask what in the actual fucking hell Yaz is doing, but she doesn’t get the words out before Yaz presses her mouth to the Doctor’s.

She’s shocked, to say the least. She doesn’t even respond in kind until the door to the hallway opens and a cart rattles through. Yaz presses on, hands pushed through blonde hair softer than she would’ve ever imagined (softer than she _has_ imagined), and licks at her bottom lip. The Doctor’s mouth opens just as the employee shouts at them to “get out, this room is employee’s only,” and Yaz pulls back. Her heart beats so hard in her chest she’s almost sure it’s going to jump out and hand itself over (though if she were honest about it, that happened months ago). The Doctor looks up at her with wide eyes and wet lips, still parted slightly and breathing heavy enough that hot air ghosts over Yaz’s mouth.

“You hear me? I said this room is employee’s only. Could have you two arrested just for bein’ in here, let alone if you’d messed with the box.”

“Wouldn’t dream of messin’ with it,” Yaz says, staring at the Doctor, hands still tangled in her hair and their bodies still pressed together. The air around them is charged with an electricity she’s never felt and it feels like a million years (but really is only a few seconds) before the Doctor shakes her head slightly like she’s clearing a fog and wiggles out from between Yaz and the wall.

“Sorry, we’ll just be leaving,” she says, slipping her fingers between Yaz’s and tugging her towards the door.

She only drops her hand when they get back to the tardis and she has to fumble around her neck for the key on the chain. She lets Yaz in first, practically bouncing on her feet as she steps in after her. There’s an excited air around them both and Yaz finds herself smiling, the energy contagious apparently.

“Great trip, Yaz! Think that were one for the books,” the Doctor says excitedly, moving past her towards the console.

When it happens, it sends a jolt through her body that is so strong she bites her tongue to keep the noise in her throat. They both stop in their tracks.

“Doctor —”

“I know,” the Doctor says, looking down at her hand that had _just_ slapped Yaz on the ass, like the limb had betrayed her (again). “Yaz —” she falters, apparently unsure of what to say and pointedly not looking up at her.

“I know,” Yaz finally says.

“I didn’t mean to — I were excited and —”

“It’s okay,” Yaz interrupts, suddenly feeling like the room is _far_ too hot, even in the sleeveless dress she’s wearing.

The Doctor finally looks up at her and _fuck_ if she doesn’t look a little breathless, her chest rising underneath that stupid coat and eyes flicking across Yaz’s face, down to her lips before pulling back up more than once.

“Are you sure?”

The question feels loaded, _heavy_ , and Yaz finds herself nodding all the same.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” she says quietly, like she’s admitting to something but she just doesn’t know to what yet. “Heat of the moment.”

The Doctor licks her lips and nods. “Right, heat of the moment,” she repeats. And then it’s _really_ quiet in the tardis as they just stand there staring at each other and Yaz can still feel the press of her lips, the pressure of the Doctor’s body as Yaz had pushed her against the wall, the feel of her hair sifting through her fingers, and _god,_ she needs to make a move, she needs to lean forward and kiss her again or she’s going to _die_ —

The Doctor suddenly jumps into action like she’s just remembered where they are. “Right! Let’s find somewhere to park for the night then. You must be knackered,” she says, bouncing around the console and pulling down the lever that starts the tardis. Yaz holds onto the metal rail and plants her feet and tries not to think about the heat flooding through her at even the memory of kissing the Doctor for that short period of time.

That night she presses three fingers into herself and replays every slap and heated look shared between them and cums within minutes (a personal record).

* * *

She kisses the Doctor again a few weeks later after one particularly stressful trip. She _thinks_ about kissing her a lot before then — in the kitchen in the morning, at night on the hexagonal stairs, during movie night every week where the Doctor curls herself up under Yaz’s arm and uses her hair as a barrier during the scary parts (Home Alone, they watched Home Alone). She thinks about it constantly, but it’s not until after they both almost don’t make it out alive that Yaz really takes the leap, puts it all out there.

They’re sweaty and panting and covered in mud and they get the tardis doors shut and the Doctor whisks them away to relative safety (the time vortex, probably) and when she turns around from the console Yaz is there, and then Yaz isn’t thinking much about what she’s doing other than that she _needs_ to be sure the Doctor is okay, that she’s here, that she’s alive.

And then she kisses her.

It’s clumsy at first — their teeth knock together and the Doctor is almost over balanced but Yaz holds her steady with an arm wrapped around her back, pulling her closer than they’ve ever been (other than, like, when they hide in cupboards or something). She grips grey fabric in her other hand and pulls the Doctor impossibly closer, needing to feel the double beat of her hearts and every breath she takes and the way she practically melts under Yaz’s touch. There’s a hand that rests on her hip and one that cups the back of her neck and a warm tongue presses at her bottom lip so of course Yaz opens her mouth and _god,_ she thinks she might pass out. She pulls away only when air becomes a necessity (for her, not the Doctor) and presses a chaste kiss against the Doctor’s mouth as she pants and tries to slow her heart.

“I thought we were going to die,” Yaz whispers.

The Doctor kisses Yaz again. “Me too,” she admits when they pull away barely a centimeter, their foreheads resting against each other and noses brushing when they move.

Her body practically thrums and her lips tingle a bit and she knows she’s addicted to the Doctor’s mouth, the feel of her lips and the taste of her tongue as it had pressed forward. She knows that after this, she’s truly fucked for anyone else, and honestly she wouldn’t have it any other way.

* * *

So, the Doctor likes kissing her. A lot.

It’s not a problem, per say. Well, not usually a problem. Not a problem Yaz would ever put a stop to.

She kisses her a lot now; in the kitchen before breakfast, when Yaz hands her a cup of tea at night, on the hexagonal stairs after a trip, in bed before Yaz goes to sleep (and before the Doctor slips out after she drifts off, tinkering and doing repairs, only to slip back in right before she wakes, smelling like engine oil and biscuit with sawdust in her hair).

It’s not the kissing part that’s the problem, either. It’s the fact that she never seems to want to do anything _other_ than kiss her — which is fine! If she never wanted to have sex, Yaz would be fine with that. Maybe the Doctor doesn’t do that sort of thing, maybe it’s something her species doesn’t do (god, she never thought that would be the reason she’s not shagging a woman), or maybe she just doesn’t want to do it with Yaz. She’s perfectly okay if the Doctor never wants to do that sort of thing and she’s fine just kissing with some minor groping and a little bit of dry humping — but _god_ , when the Doctor swings a leg over her lap while she’s trying to read a book in the library and kisses her like she’s never gonna stop, like she’s never wanted anything more than to be in that moment with her tongue in Yaz’s mouth and her hips rolling forward slowly before she pulls away and says something so off the wall that Yaz isn’t even horny anymore, well. It’s a lot to deal with.

And again, it’s not the kissing part that’s the problem. It’s not even the lack of sex that’s the problem. The problem comes as something the Doctor probably doesn’t even notice she does, considering she never brings it up.

The problem is the slapping.

Yaz truly believes it were an accident the first time in the tardis, and then after they’d dropped off that little girl, and then after they’d gotten back from the show, but it keeps happening now and it’s becoming a problem.

(A problem meaning Yaz thinks about it when she cums around three fingers buried to the deepest knuckle).

She doesn’t know if she should say anything about it because now it’s sort of commonplace, so often that she doesn’t even flinch when it happens. It was just an occasional thing where the Doctor would come around her at the console and tap her arse, or slap her lightly when they need to run, or when Yaz is cooking in one of the kitchens and she leans over her shoulder, kissing her on the neck and kneading flesh with her hands (okay, that last one isn’t a slap but it’s very distracting so she’s counting it). It started as once a month, then once a week, then three times a week, until she slaps Yaz at least once every single day for two weeks straight and Yaz is about ready to scream if this woman doesn’t put her fingers inside her soon.

She finally breaks after she’s bent over, rummaging in the bottom drawer of her dresser for a pair of jeans she _knows_ she put back after they were washed, when the Doctor steps through the doorway.

“Hiya,” she says, walking past. Yaz almost thinks she’s not gonna do it, almost believes she’ll forego it, and then it comes — the slap. It’s harder this time, enough to make noise and make Yaz stiffen from where she’s still got both hands in the drawer, gripping onto a pair of sweats that the Doctor usually wears during their movie nights.

And then she just...walks on past, toeing off her boots at the side of the bed (because Yaz has yelled at her a lot about putting her dirty shoes on her bed) and flopping down on her back, reaching over to Yaz’s side and grabbing the book off the nightstand. She flips through it absentmindedly and Yaz doesn’t know if she can really read that fast or if she’s already read it or if she’s just skimming but it doesn’t matter — all she can really think about is the slap and the way her skin still stings, even through her pants, and how her body floods with heat (arousal or exasperation? It’s a toss up).

She straightens up and shuts the drawer with her foot, not caring much about the jeans anymore. When she turns she sees the Doctor with her legs crossed at the ankles, striped socked feet moving to a beat she can’t hear, tongue caught between her lips as her eyes skim the pages. Yaz crosses her arms.

“So you think you can just hit me every day now?” she asks, voice slow and even.

The Doctor’s eyes shoot up from the book in genuine surprise. “What?”

Yaz scoffs. “You really gonna tell me you don’t notice you slap my arse almost every day?”

The Doctor closes the book and sits up on the bed. “What do you mean? I don’t —”

“You absolutely do, Doctor. You just did it.”

The Doctor looks like she’s trying to remember the past couple seconds, and then her face drops.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, _oh.”_

“Yaz, I’m sorry, I don’t even think about it anymore — it’s sort of habit now —”

Yaz scoffs again. “So because you were a misogynist, you think you can hit me now?”

 _“Yaz,_ I told you I weren’t a misogynist —”

“You seem like you need to learn some manners.”

The words stop the Doctor’s rambling in their tracks. Her mouth clicks shut and her nostrils flare and she suddenly looks nervous, like she doesn’t quite know how to navigate this situation.

There’s a long silence between them. One that feels heavier than anything else before — heavier than two days ago when she was pretty sure the Doctor came while dry humping her thigh in the green kitchen (but she didn’t ask and neither of them mentioned it after). It practically weighs on Yaz as they stare at one another and Yaz waits for her response — for the sign that she really wants this.

“I think —” The Doctor licks her lips and swallows, eyes dark as they dart around Yaz’s face. Her hands are gripping the book hard enough to crinkle one of the pages. “I think that might be helpful.”

Yaz nods, feeling a rush of heat lap over her body like flames licking at her heels. “Take them off, then.”

The Doctor’s brows knit together and she looks confused. “My…?”

Yaz looks down at her trousers for a long few seconds, then back up again.

“Oh,” the Doctor breathes, and then she scrambles off the bed, dropping the book face down before quickly sliding off her braces and moving her fingers to the button of her culottes. When Yaz approaches she freezes like she’s expecting to be touched (like she _wants_ to be touched) but all Yaz does is pick up the book and straighten the page back as best she can, setting it on the Doctor’s nightstand.

She feels a bit dizzy as she watches the Doctor follow her order without complaint. Blue culottes pool around her ankles and she kicks them to the side, bouncing on her foot when her ankle gets stuck and she has to shake her leg to get them off. Finally she’s down to her shirts, underwear, and socks, hands going to the thick waistband of her boxers but not doing anything else, like she’s waiting for permission _(god,_ she’s waiting for permission).

“Those too,” Yaz says, voice far more even than she feels on the inside.

The Doctor studies her face for barely a second before she’s pulling tight fabric down pale thighs and kicking it to the side the same way she’d done with her culottes. It takes Yaz’s breath away when she looks down at the curly patch of hair covering her, already slicked with need. The Doctor’s hands tap anxiously on the sides of her bare thighs and when Yaz looks back up she’s got her bottom lip pulled between her teeth.

“Do you have a safeword?” Yaz asks, and _fuck_ if her voice isn’t a bit breathy and strained.

The Doctor’s face lights up in a grin. “Custard cream,” she says proudly, like she’s the smartest being in the universe for thinking of it. “Don’t think it’ll come up too much durin’ sex — I mean, it _could_ but I don’t think it will, and —”

“It’s perfect,” Yaz interrupts, then asks, “are you sure?”

The Doctor’s eyes dart down to her lips for a brief second before she nods. “Absolutely sure.”

At that, Yaz takes a step forward until they’re almost touching. One hand reaches up to cup the Doctor’s cheek, guiding her mouth forward, and the other settles on her bare hip, rubbing circles over the sharp bone with her thumb. The Doctor’s hands don’t immediately move, but when they do they settle on Yaz’s hips, trying to pull her closer. Yaz pulls away from her mouth with a frown and grabs both of her wrists.

“Y’need to learn how to ask permission before touchin’ other people,” she says firmly, moving the Doctor’s hands from her sides.

The Doctor nods, eyes wide but she doesn’t say anything, doesn’t talk back or apologize or ramble like normal. In fact, she seems a bit more calm than usual, like following Yaz’s orders is all she wants to focus on right now.

Yaz brings her mouth forward again and this time she swipes her tongue over her bottom lip at the same time her free hand grabs the soft flesh of her ass and squeezes. The Doctor’s mouth opens with a small gasp and Yaz uses the opportunity to push her tongue forward, licking and sucking on her tongue as she pulls the Doctor flush with her body. The Doctor, for her part, keeps her shaking hands at her sides and doesn’t try to reach up and touch Yaz again.

When she’s got her where she wants her — that is, whimpering and bucking her hips forward, trying to get Yaz’s attention to where she needs her most — Yaz pulls away. The Doctor’s lips are red and wet, kiss swollen and beautiful exactly like that. Her cheeks are flushes and her breathing is a bit heavier as she looks at Yaz with pupils blown so wide they make her eyes look dark. Yaz gives one more firm squeeze (which causes the Doctor to gasp again) before she lets go and steps back.

“Shirts off,” she says, taking a seat on the bed and waiting. The Doctor does as asked, pulling her shirts over her head and throwing them off to the side, leaving her completely bare (apparently she doesn’t wear a bra, which Yaz already knew about her but still). She looks nervous, standing there naked under Yaz’s intense gaze, but Yaz doesn’t give her any other commands yet. She takes in the smooth expanse of her stomach, the hip bones that stick out just a bit and the dark freckles that dot her skin (Yaz wants to compare them to stars in the night sky but that seems a bit much). Her nipples are already hard in the cool air of the room and Yaz’s mouth waters at the idea of taking one into her mouth.

She refrains for the time being, though. She’ll be able to do that later. For now she motions to her lap and says, “Bend over.”

“Oh! You want me to —” The Doctor stops and her face flushes again, the redness starting on her chest and working it’s way up. She licks her lips. Yaz raises an eyebrow and hopes she gives off an air of confidence and not the nervous energy she currently feels (nervous, excited, downright giddy at finally touching her). “Okay,” the Doctor finishes quietly, climbing onto the bed next to Yaz and bending over her lap, only hesitating a second before laying her full weight on Yaz’s thighs (and the bed).

God, now that she has her here she doesn’t know what to do. Or, well, she knows _what_ to do — she’s done it to a girlfriend or two in the past, granted not in this _exact_ position but like, it’s the same concept — but she doesn’t know what she wants to do first. From this position she can’t even see her cunt but she feels the heat of it through her jeans and the way the Doctor presses her hips down impatiently when Yaz doesn’t move for a long moment.

She places a hand on her ass and the Doctor tenses for a second before melting into the soft kneading as Yaz works the flesh like dough. When her thumb brushes a bit too close between her thighs the Doctor sucks in a breath and a soft, strangled noise follows. She does it again, to the same reaction, and so she does it a third time and this time the Doctor looks over her shoulder, trying to see Yaz.

 _“Yaz,”_ she whines, pressing her hips down against her lap again.

“Spoilt,” Yaz says, letting go of one cheek and kneading the other the same way. She feels practically drunk on the power over her in this position; reducing the Doctor — the timeless child, the Oncoming Storm, a woman who can single handedly bring the worst people to their knees — to a whining, spoiled mess that’s now bent over Yaz’s and almost begging to be fucked. It’s...something, alright.

“Far too spoilt, you are. Think you can just hit me all the time and there’d be no consequences?”

The first slap could barely even be considered that for how lightly Yaz hits her, but the Doctor lets out a surprised squeak and the hands gripping the sheet underneath her tighten their hold. Yaz slaps a bit harder the next time, just a bit higher on the cheek as well, and this time the Doctor’s hips roll forward and her head drops to the mattress.

“Answer the question, Doctor,” Yaz says, voice so low it’s practically a growl. She waits until the Doctor has her mouth open and is about to answer when she hits her again, the slap harder than the last two and leaving a blossoming red print on the cheek. The answer doesn’t come and instead she moans quietly, eyes clenched tight and mouth open in a pant. Yaz slaps her one more time for good measure before she stops for a second. Her hand is hot and the Doctor’s skin is burning when she starts to softly knead her cheek with sure fingers.

 _“Now,”_ Yaz commands and the Doctor’s eyes fly open, like she’s suddenly remembered there is still a question she hasn’t answered.

“No,” she gasps when Yaz gets a little too close between her legs again. “No, I didn’t think there wouldn’t be any consequences.”

Yaz pulls her hand back and the Doctor’s entire body tenses as she waits for the slap that Yaz holds out on just to make it that much sweeter. When it does come, it’s on the other cheek and it’s harder than the last ones, enough to immediately leave a red print on the pale flesh.

“So you planned this, then?” Yaz asks.

_Slap._

_Moan._

_Pause._

“You wanted this to happen?”

_Slap._

_Moan._

_Pause._

“You thought if you riled me up enough, I might just bend you over my knee and teach you a thing or two about respect, yeah?”

_Slap._

_Moan._

_Pause._

This time Yaz doesn’t say anything or hit her again. She waits, hand in the air, ready to strike, and the Doctor nods, unable to form words at this point. Both cheeks are now red and Yaz can practically see the heat radiating off of them as the Doctor squirms on her lap.

“Stay still.” The Doctor stops moving.

 _“Yaz,”_ she whines again.

Yaz’s voice is softer when it next comes out, the scene broken for a brief second. “Do you wanna keep going?”

Blonde hair bobs around her head, sticking to her sweaty neck when she nods eagerly. “Please.”

Yaz’s hand cuts through the air and slaps hard on her cheek and the Doctor’s body tenses, a moan pulled from her throat as her hips roll forward against Yaz’s lap.

“Say stop when you’re done,” Yaz commands and the Doctor nods, slower this time. She drops her face to the mattress on the next hit and her moan is muffled by the fabric, which is disappointing. Yaz uses her free hand to grip blonde hair tight in her fist and turn her head to the side so her cheek is pressed against the mattress.

“I’d like to hear you when you finally apologize,” Yaz says, following it with another hard slap. The Doctor tenses for a second before practically melting in her lap. Yaz slaps her again.

She doesn’t know how many times she hits her, honestly. It could be two, it could be twenty, but slowly the Doctor is worked up to a limp, whimpering mess with every hit and she stutters on the words as they spill from her mouth.

“S-sorry, Yaz. I’m —” Yaz slaps her again and the moan that comes out is loud and unashamed, practically echoing in the room. “I’m sorry. I w-won’t touch you without your p-permission, swear it.”

“Good girl,” Yaz coos, voice sickly sweet now. She kneads her cheeks in both hands, admiring the heat of her skin and the bright red that contrasts nicely with her pale thighs, and the Doctor moans loud, the sound broken and needy. “Have you learned your lesson?”

The Doctor nods, head moving in jerky motions. Yaz squeezes tender skin and the Doctor gasps out, _“Yes,_ Yaz. I’ve learned my lesson.”

“Good, now get up.” Yaz taps her lightly on the side and the Doctor takes a few long seconds to collect herself before she lifts herself up on shaky arms, moving back until she’s kneeling next to Yaz on the bed.

Now that the warmth of her body is gone from her lap, Yaz kind of misses it. It was nice to have the Doctor bent over for her, willingly being reduced to a puddle with just a few slaps.

“Lie down,” Yaz says, standing from the bed and stretching out her tense limbs. The Doctor immediately does as told and when Yaz climbs onto the bed to hover over her she realizes the streaks on her face are tear marks. She touches one gently with her thumb. “This okay?”

The Doctor nods eagerly, eyes bright behind the thick haze that fogs them. She takes Yaz’s wrist and guides her palm to her mouth, placing a soft kiss on the center of it before slowly guiding two fingers into wet heat. Yaz nearly passes out then as the Doctor sucks on both digits, cheeks hollowing and strong tongue working around them like she’s sucking cock. It suddenly makes images flash through her mind of the Doctor on her knees, sucking a strap on for all it’s worth and letting out small moans while she does it.

Yaz can’t help herself. She removes her fingers from the Doctor’s mouth and moves off the bed, kneeling in front of it and hooking her arms under the Doctor’s thighs to pull her closer to the edge. The Doctor looks on eagerly as Yaz’s mouth descends on her cunt and her eyes roll to the back of her head at the first swipe of Yaz’s tongue.

From the first taste, she’s absolutely addicted. If she thought kissing the Doctor was addicting then eating her out is moreso. One leg hooks over her shoulder and Yaz spreads her with her thumbs, feeling the throb of her clit on her tongue as she laps and licks and swipes. She sucks on her clit and the Doctor’s hips buck up and Yaz moves one arm around her to hold her down, nails digging into her hip as a warning. The Doctor tries her best not to move but Yaz can tell she’s struggling when she shoves her tongue as deep as it’ll go, nose brushing against her clit. She moans and gasps and one of her hands reaches down like she’s going to grab Yaz’s hair but she stops, hand raised halfway in the air for a few seconds before she lets it drop to the bed next to her. Yaz hums in appreciation and pulls her face away, swiping over her clit with her thumb.

“Good girl,” she says, placing a wet kiss on her thigh. The Doctor clenches in response, a strangled moan coming right after. The praise thing isn’t all too surprising — Yaz had figured she’d probably have something like that considering she’s gotta be _The Doctor_ all the time. It was a toss up between her being a complete bossy top, or a whiny, needy bottom, and Yaz is _really_ glad it’s the latter.

She moans loud when Yaz attaches her lips back to her clit and sucks hard, flicking the tip of her tongue until thighs shake on either side of her head, then she backs off. She repeats this...many times. So many times that she doesn’t remember how many and it doesn’t really matter because the Doctor is looking down at her with heavy lidded eyes, mouth open and panting as she watches Yaz eat her cunt like a full course meal.

“Yaz,” she gasps when Yaz presses a finger against her already fluttering entrance. “Yaz, please.”

“Like I said — spoilt,” Yaz says, biting down on the inside of her thigh. She presses her finger forward until she’s in to the first knuckle, but of course that’s not enough. The Doctor moans frustratedly but she doesn’t do anything about it — doesn’t grab her hair or roll her hips or try to get more. She just lays there and takes it, just like Yaz wants.

“Please,” she whines again. Yaz pushes in to the second knuckle and she gasps but it’s still not enough. With how wet and ready she is, Yaz doesn’t think it’ll be enough until she’s three fingers deep, down to the third knuckle, and fucking her for all she’s worth. Her body thrums with excitement for that.

“You’ve been teasing me for months and now you want me to hurry?”

“I haven’t —” The Doctor groans and her teeth clench when Yaz goes deeper, down to the third knuckle, just one finger. “I haven’t been teasing you,” she grunts out.

“Really? Dry humping me until you cum and then immediately dashing off to take us to a planet that’s made of meringue isn’t teasing?” Yaz slowly pumps her finger, slow enough that she knows it’s driving the Doctor crazy. Her cunt clenches hard around the intrusive digit but it’s not even close to what she needs.

“I didn’t mean to!” the Doctor protests, albeit weakly. There’s a thin sheen of sweat covering her body and each slow pump of Yaz’s finger causes her stomach to tense beautifully. “That were an accident and —”

“Oh, so you didn’t mean to mount me in the kitchen and hump my leg like a dog?”

The Doctor’s face flushes even harder, if that were possible. She looks away and mumbles, “No.”

“What was that?” Yaz asks, curling her finger upwards, causing the Doctor’s entire body to tense.

“No, I didn’t mean to cum that time.”

Yaz scoffs. “Maybe I should just leave you like this, then. Since you seem to be able to get off no matter what, you’ll be fine now.” She starts to pull her finger out and the Doctor’s eyes shoot back down to her.

“No, Yaz — please don’t — I need it,” she begs, voice on the edge of hysteria. Her cunt tightens around Yaz’s finger like it’s trying to pull her back in, to not let her go until she gets what she wants. “I’m sorry I teased you — I didn’t mean to. I-I didn’t mean to cum and then after it happened you were lookin’ at me so nicely and I felt so good and I just forgot that y’might want to — but it were an accident, _really,_ and —” Her words cut off when Yaz presses two fingers back into her, curling them up and rubbing the spot that makes her thighs shake. The Doctor groans and throws her head back against the bed, muttering words Yaz can’t quite catch from where she is.

Yaz works her up slowly, pumping her fingers and licking at her clit until the Doctor is gripping the sheet next to her hip and practically shaking. Words spill from her mouth like water and half of them don’t mean a thing to Yaz, said in a language she doesn’t recognize or understand but where the intent comes across clear as day — _please._

“Ask nicely,” Yaz says, mouth so close to her aching cunt that the words are almost mumbled against her clit.

“Please,” the Doctor immediately blurts out, voice shaking.

“Nicer than that.”

The Doctor looks down at her, bottom lip pulled between her teeth and brows knitted together. She whimpers when Yaz starts to push a third finger into her.

“Please, Yaz. I’ll be good — I’ll do anythin’ you want, swear it. I’ll never smack you again and I’ll make you cum when you want and —”

Yaz presses the third finger fully into her and the Doctor almost sobs. Her breath is choked off and her neck tenses, head thrown back as she’s finally given what she wants. Yaz speeds up the movement of her hand and realizes she wants to see her cum — that she _needs_ to see her cum.

She moves from between the Doctor’s thighs and crawls up her body, her fingers still keeping up the brutal pace in her cunt. The Doctor’s moans are louder now, unrestrained as she’s fucked exactly how she wanted. She says a mix of curse words and Yaz’s name and other words Yaz doesn’t understand and she weakly responds when Yaz presses their lips together, her tongue sliding past so the Doctor can taste herself. The Doctor lets out a whimper when Yaz bites down on her bottom lip and reaches up with her thumb to rub circles over her clit.

“P-pl —” She can’t even get the word out between the hard thrusts of Yaz’s hand and the pleasure racing through her body and Yaz kisses down her jaw, down her neck, biting down softly on her shoulder.

“Come on, Doctor,” she husks in her ear. The Doctor groans in response, hands fisting the sheets tighter and clenching hard around Yaz’s fingers. She pulls back and watches as the Doctor’s face contorts as she’s skyrocketed towards the peak at top speed. “Look at me.”

The Doctor’s eyes shoot open and she does her best to look at Yaz, trying not to let her eyes roll to the back of her head with the pleasure racing through her. Yaz’s forearm is starting to burn but you’d have to cut her arm off to get her to stop.

“Are you gonna be a good girl from now on?”

The Doctor nods weakly, eyes starting to close but she opens them back up almost immediately. Her nostrils flare as she breathes heavily, teeth clenched and jaw tight. There’s a vein in her neck that pulses with her racing double heartbeat and Yaz aches to lick at it, to feel it pulse under her tongue like her clit had, but this is far more important.

“Tell me what you’ve learned.”

The Doctor’s mouth falls open but no words come out. Her hips are rocking into the thrusts now, trying to get Yaz deeper. Her tongue darts out slowly to wet her lips but she doesn’t seem to be able to form words.

“Tell me what you’ve learned,” Yaz repeats, voice more stern this time. “Do it and then you can cum.”

“I —” She swallows and whimpers when Yaz rubs at her clit again. “I won’t touch you without permission, and —” A moan rips from her throat and her eyes start to close again.

“And?”

She opens her eyes again like she’s just remembered where she is. Her entire body is on edge, tense and ready to fall at any second but not willing to jump herself (she wants the push).

“And I won’t tease you anymore — _please, Yaz,”_ she begs.

“Good girl.” The Doctor’s body tenses even tighter at the words and she whimpers again. “Go ahead, cum for me Doctor. Show me what you’ve earned.”

The Doctor nods and it only takes a few more thrusts until her eyes are rolling back in her head, face breaking open in an almost pained expression as she’s thrown off the peak (push be damned). She clenches around Yaz’s fingers and her entire body stiffens and jolts a few times as pleasure hits her in waves and she cums hard. She moans Yaz’s name over and over like it’s the only word left in her vocabulary and Yaz can’t imagine ever hearing her name said any other way. Wetness covers Yaz’s hand as she slows her pace, bringing the Doctor back down to the tardis and moving her thumb off of her clit so as to not overstimulate her. Her chest heaves and she’s covered in sweat and her hair sticks to her neck and Yaz thinks she just might be the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen in her entire life.

The Doctor sucks in a deep breath and lets out a chuckle. “Wow,” she breathes.

Yaz smirks and kisses her shoulder, pulling her fingers out of her still fluttering cunt. “Good, then?”

The Doctor nods and weakly lets go of the sheets, lifting her arms but stopping midway in the air. “Can I touch you?” she asks hesitantly.

Yaz presses a chaste kiss to her mouth before flopping on the bed next to her and wiping her hand on the sheet. “Of course you can touch me.”

“Good,” the Doctor breathes before rolling to her side and wrapping an arm around Yaz’s waist, bare skin pressing against the clothes Yaz suddenly remembers she’s wearing. She’s like, still fully clothed, and she just made the Doctor see stars. The Doctor presses a kiss under her jaw. “Can I still slap your arse?”

Of course she’s asking that. Yaz says, “Only if you’re shaggin’ me. Don’t do it in public.”

“But what if we’re shagging in public?” the Doctor asks.

“Then I’ll have to arrest us both for public indecency.”

“A shame.”

“Really is.”

The Doctor is quiet for a few seconds as her fingers trace shapes over the exposed skin of Yaz’s hip.

“Can I make you cum now?” she asks quietly.

Yaz snorts. “If you don’t I’ll do it myself.”

The Doctor grins up at her, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. “Brilliant,” she says, scrambling off the bed and already tugging at the fabric of Yaz’s jeans, pulling them and her underwear down her legs. Before she connects her mouth to her cunt, however, she mumbles, “Does this mean I can edge you this time?”

Yaz grabs a fistful of blonde hair and holds the Doctor’s head in place. “You better not.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> as always send Thots to @zanthetran on tumblr <3


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